Gravity
by aylithe
Summary: Three years have passed since the attack on New York, but things are hardly at peace in Asgard. The royal family fears for Loki's sanity, and his life, after he sees his fylgja — a sure omen of his impending death. The clock is ticking, and it's only a matter of time until it's too late for Thor to save his brother from both the darkness, and himself. Loki/Sigyn TDW never happened.
1. Prologue

**Why am I doing this to myself again. I never learn my lesson, do I? Working on two stories at once. So. Uh... This has come about because platonic brotherly feels? And a bit of Logyn which isn't the main focus of the story? And a bit of GotG excitement? Well, onwards.**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

_"Love is metaphysical gravity." _— R. Buckminster Fuller

* * *

_It is the cold he fears these days. The winter was a secret time for him, a time when he used to sit on the bay windows in the nursery, his head on his arms and listening, ever listening, to the whisper of the snow as it fell. He ached for it in a way he could never explain to his brother, nor to his mother._

_But the snow of Asgard never felt quite right to him, and he remembers how he despaired at how quickly it had melted, how it never seemed to settle on the ground for more than two or three days before it was gone. It never felt whole, melting in his hands and dripping down his forearms._

_Now the cold is a thing of horror to him, a thing that whispers false promises in his ears, and gives him their nightmares instead of the dreams of tranquillity they had once offered him in his blessed naivety. The cold was what had torn at his flesh in the Void, that had numbed his mind and his body beyond belief, and had cracked his throat with the screams that it had torn from him._

_And tonight in his dreams, he falls and falls and he is forever falling and Norns the cold and a silence so deafening he will be driven insane._

Death take me now please I beg you take me now—

_There is no such mercy for him. Because then in the space and the darkness pierced by only the smallest of stars,_ they _find him. Catch him when others had failed to do so._

_He'd been naïve enough once to think they had rescued him from the Void. Naïve once, and once only. _

Never again. Never never never—

_He feels their hands on him, pulling at his abused and battered body and he thrashes weakly in an attempt to get them_ away.

Please no please no please I'm _begging_ you….

_The words they are speaking in his ear sound like screeches and clicks and he bites and tears and seeks to destroy. The rock they set him upon is cold and dark and damp under his knees as they forced him to kneel at the foot of a throne crowned with spikes of rock and bone._

_He hears someone by him addressing the throne, scraping and bowing before it as it turns to face them. He cannot look, cannot bear to lift his eyes. _

_He shudders as he feels something brush against the back of his neck, something soft and cold._

_He is afraid to look up, afraid to raise his head, caged as it is in his arms. They grip his hair and lift his head, but the throne is no longer there. They pull his arms above him, immobilising him against the rock before they tear into his mind again and again and again._

I am Odinson I am Odinson I will not bend—

_They hiss in displeasure and break him again._

_And again._

_And again…._

_The screams they tear from his throat as they force him to kneel_ _before their benefactor_—

I am not you won't make me I was born to be a king the rightful king and you shall not bend me—

_He could feel his mind breaking, cracking in his nightmare and …_

STOP—

Their benefactor laughs and reaches for him with a huge, grey hand—

_And then power whispers to him. Gilded lies. The glow of the Tesseract, calling to him, filling his ears with its siren song…._

Little pet_, his master croons._

_And as it had done every night, he feels his already carefully balanced mind shattering into pieces. That realisation of what they did will never leave, will always haunt him. The cold had dug its fingers into him, prising him apart bit by bit and had gripped him tight and had refused to let him go for how long now, he didn't know. He was too afraid to count the days, the months, the years, to find out exactly for how long he had fallen, and how far._

_And then he is to their pleasing. They break him until he is nothing more than anger and hate. A self-sustaining source of it. Something that would grow and would only continue growing, for anger breeds anger. Breeds madness. Depravity._

They give him everything he needs to grow his power, to take it and rule a kingdom for himself, and he does it partly out of desperation, and partially because he aches for it. For power. He goes to his master and gets down on bended knee before his throne.

I am yours_, he says._

_There is no reply, only the sound of talons on stone._

_He looks up._

_The throne is not occupied by his master, nor any of his servants. A bird — a raven — sits upon the backrest, watching him coolly. When he sees it, everything else seems to fall away. The darkness bleeds into white, and neither of them move, before the raven cocks its head and lifts its wings._

_The raven's feathers are like shadows, long fingers of it extending outwards as it glides forward, and a harsh cry tearing from its throat. Graceful lines tattoo its body, and when it turns its eyes on him, they are the same bloody colour of the monster that had sired him._

_His heart catches in his chest, and he stumbles back, scrambling away as the raven comes and comes and _comes—

Þú vili deyja_, a voice says._ Þú vili deyja, Loki Laufeyson. Þú vili deyja

_His heart is thudding with terror and he screams for the raven to get away—_

Þú vili deyja. Þú vili deyja. Þú vili deyja.

I am not yours to command—

Þú vili deyja. Þú vili deyja.

_The raven merges into his chest._

Þú vili deyja.

_And he is screaming when he wakes._

* * *

**I'm not going to update again for ages, because school. Honestly, I only posted this now as a placeholder because otherwise I'm scared I just won't write it. Uh huh. I wrote this something like three or four weeks ago. So yeah... Teaser, I suppose?**

***runs***

_**—aylithe**_


	2. Chapter One

**Haven't been writing much _Jotunheimr_ recently because I've been editing the earlier chapters, and I wanna finish them first. So for now, be content with this.**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

"How long has this been happening?" Mother asked the warden. It was early in the morning; the sun barely crested the horizon, and the grounds of Glaðsheimr were covered in glistening dew. Below the palace, Asgard was beginning to stir into life. Thor had no cares for Asgard this morning, though. All of his attention was upon the head warden of the dungeons, dressed in a bright cloak of gold and elegant armour, and his ceremonial helmet tucked under his arm.

The warden dipped his head. "For just over two weeks, my queen. Firstly it was only rarely, and his sleep was interrupted only by slight twitches and the like. It was nothing serious, but two nights ago, he started screaming."

"And what do the healers say?" Mother pressed.

"We cannot assess what's wrong, my queen," the warden said. "He will not talk to them, and he does not even let them near him so they might examine him. That, and we had some difficulty finding someone who was willing to go near."

Thor glowered in irritation, his fingers drumming a pattern on his thigh.

"There is more as well, my queen," the warden said. "He is speaking in his sleep. In some language we cannot understand."

"What do you mean?" Mother asked sharply.

"It is guttural, Your Majesty," the warden continued. "Just three words over and over. Nine times he repeats them, and then he has always screamed. Then he quiets and the pattern repeats." He lowered his chin. "We have been flummoxed, my queen. We do not know what or why it has been happening."

Mother's expression was icy. "Thank you, Warden," she said. The warden bowed low and turned on his heel, marching from the suite.

When the door closed, Thor passed a hand over his eyes, sighing deeply as he swung his leg up on the arm of his chair, biting his knuckle. He was worried, and deeply so. Loki was one of the quietest sleepers he had ever known. And if he was screaming …

Thor had often wondered what had happened to his brother after he had fallen from the Bifröst. He had hardly recognised him when he first beheld him on Midgardr in the S.H.I.E.L.D. flying craft, and then in their encounters afterwards. Loki had been found, he knew that, but beyond anything else, he knew nothing. Loki had refused to speak after his return to Asgard, had made no attempt to argue his case against the Allfather to the degree he was capable of. No, there was a piece of the puzzle Thor had been missing.

A piece which seemed to have landed in his lap.

"Why would Loki be screaming?" Thor asked his mother.

She crossed to him, sitting in the opposite chair and covering his other hand with both of her own. Her eyes were so open and kind and full of love Thor could not help but smile through the melancholy mood.

"I do not know exactly what he has been through since he … since he left us," she started, "but it was by far nothing easy. The Void is not a place one passes through unscathed. I have my fears, as does your father, based on the evidence that was left to us after the battle on Midgardr."

"The Chitauri," Thor said. He bit into his knuckle harder before he took his hand from his mouth, licked his lips, and said, "Loki had a further master."

Mother nodded hesitantly. "Yes. We found evidence further on his skin and in his bones when he was examined after you returned. He has been tortured, and his torturer knew what they were doing." Her lips were white, and her words hoarse.

Thor rounded on her. "Why did you not tell me of this?" he demanded. "Mother, you cannot—!"

"Your father and I said nothing because we knew you would react like this," she said.

"But he's my brother."

"You love him too much, Thor. You two have been hurt enough by each other."

"By your lies," Thor said.

It was a low blow, and his mother flinched. Regret slid heavily into Thor's stomach like an uru block.

"But then," Thor said, "then that in itself is further evidence he was not in his right mind. So why has Father punished him so severely?"

"Because he would not offer a defence for himself," Mother said. "By our law, that would lead to the inevitability of having to sentence him."

Thor was breathing heavily through his nose. He moved on. "Mother, we need to see him. Please. We need to figure out and understand what is going on."

His mother took a steadying breath and said, "I can send an illu—"

"No!" Thor protested. "We need to see him. In the flesh. Loki has never had a history such as this, and I … I cannot sit here idly when something is clearly going on. I do not care if they are just nightmares of past experiences, I must see him. I … There are so many unsavoury things between us, and I will strive to mend our bond as best I can. Loki needs us."

Mother's mouth twisted into a grimace of a smile. "Your father will not be happy."

Thor lifted his chin. "I don't care."

* * *

#

* * *

The dungeons were cold. Thor pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he followed his mother to the end of the corridor, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement as the guards saluted to them. But his eyes were fixed on the cell at the end of the high security block. He didn't care for the other prisoners who threw themselves against the energy barriers, snapping and snarling and howling at him and his mother as they passed. Thor was too fixated on the furnished cell his brother now occupied.

Two guards stood outside Loki's cell, their spears crossed, and they straightened when they saw Thor and the queen approaching them.

"Your Majesty. Your Highness," one of the guards said. "I am sorry, but by the express command of Odin Allfather—"

"I know of what my husband has commanded," Mother said, turning her gaze on the guard, "but I, along with my son, will be given access regardless."

The guard was clearly struggling with his consciousness, but at a slight eyebrow raise from the queen, his resistance crumbled. He bowed, marched to the control panel hidden on the wall by the cell, opened the hatch, and manipulated the magical display that ignited.

"By the authority of the Allfather, the prisoner will remain in the cell," he called, before he slid his fingers down the projection and unlocked the cell. One of the walls fell away, and Thor and Mother stepped inside before the barrier was restored.

The whiteness blinded Thor momentarily, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted. The cell was by far bigger and more comfortable than the others. Several articles of furniture were scattered around, and a trove of books stacked against the furthest wall. But Thor could not see Loki. He looked around, squinting, and a part of him wondered if Loki had escaped. But the thought was banished as his mother rounded an armchair — whose back was facing Thor — and her face broke into a smile.

"My son."

"I am not your son."

Loki stood gracefully from the chair, snapping a book shut and turning his cold gaze on the queen. Thor had not seen his brother since the sentencing three years prior, and his clenched gut eased slightly. Loki looked far healthier than he had done on Midgardr. His once-gaunt face was fuller, and his eyes were not so sunken. The soft light of the cell probably helped, Thor conceded, but the change was welcome.

Loki's eyes snapped to Thor, and his face pulled into a scowl at once. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked.

Thor squared his shoulders. "Can I not see my brother?"

Loki leant on the back of the chair, leering. "I am not your brother. How many times must I say it until it gets through that thick skull of yours?"

"Loki, do not speak like that," their mother chided. "He is worried for you."

Loki's laugh held no humour in it. "Oh, so after _three years_, the great Thor Odinson finally asks after me? Ah, but why am I so surprised it has taken this long? It's never been any different."

Oh, Loki had missed him. Thor could see through the words enough to the true emotion that was underneath. He chuckled. "It's good to see you too, Loki."

"Shut up."

Thor's smile dropped off his face. Loki had never spoken to him like that. Not even on Midgardr. It was so cold, so detached and _uncaring_ that Thor was taken aback. Loki's eyes were hooded and calculating, and his thoughts on Thor's reaction — if he had any — were hidden impeccably behind a façade.

Even Mother's face paled. "Loki, please. He is worried, and I am worried. We have heard of what has been happening recently. The warden has told us of your … sleeping troubles. Your nightmares."

"'Sleeping troubles'? 'Nightmares'?" Loki lifted his chin proudly. "I can assure you that there have been no such things as what you are suggesting. I am fine."

"That is not what I have heard," Mother said. "What _we_ have heard."

"You must have heard wrong then. I am in as perfect health as sitting in this cell day after day allows me to be," Loki replied smoothly, looking pointedly at the queen.

"Then why wear this glamour?" Mother asked.

Loki scoffed, turning his head away. His fingers dug into the chair's back. "Glamour? Perhaps you should ask the Allfather. After all, he was the one who sought to hide the monster behind such a thing. I would rather think he is more suited to tell you than I."

"You are no monster," Mother said. "Loki, my son—"

"I am _not_ your son."

Their mother sighed. "Loki, tell me what is troubling you."

"Where would you like me to start? Forgive me; it is rather hard to pick a single, troubling event to begin from when I have had a life so full of them."

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

"These so-called nightmares?" He fixed his gaze on her unblinkingly and said, "I am _perfectly_ fine, Queen Frigga."

"And that is how I know you are not," Mother said, a smile touching the corner of her mouth. "You are so adamant."

"Well then, I can assure you, Lady Queen, that if there were something wrong, I would not see it something that I should bother you with. My position would deem it be a trivial matter compared to the matters of state you have."

"Loki, do not do this," Thor said. "Our mother—"

"_Our_ mother?" Loki spat, his eyes narrowing as he turned on Thor. "No, I rather think not, _Odinson_. She is no mother of mine. No mother would have lied for more than a millennium to her child about his very nature. I rather think _masochist_ might be a more fitting word."

Thor surged forward and grabbed the front of Loki's surcoat, slamming him bodily against the wall and hardly hearing his mother's cry of, "Thor, no!"

"How _dare_ you?" Thor demanded. "How _can_ you?"

But Loki only grinned. "How amusing," he sneered. "The soon-to-be king still lets worthless sentiment rule his heart. I'd have thought Odin would have set the perfect example as how one should rule — through heartlessness. He has always waxed so much of his attention to you, surely his ideologies would have rubbed off by now."

Thor loosened his grip and stepped away a little. "Loki, this is not you." No: this was not Loki at all. Thor's earlier thoughts were running rampant in his mind.

"Oh, but it is," Loki said. "As I have already told you — I have grown. That _boy_ who you threw off the Bifröst is dead."

"You think I threw—?"

"Oh yes, for it was because of your hammer that the Bifröst shattered and I was thrown from its edge. You didn't even _try_—"

"Loki, do not speak like this!" Thor shouted.

"And why not?" Loki jeered. "Why not? Do you truly still cling to your precious naiveté? Naiveté only brings disappointment, and it is by high time you let it go. Only then will you accept that your beloved brother is not coming back, and that I am nothing more than a creature whose heart is covered in frost. Then you can stop being so Norns-be-damned disappointed. It'll do you a favour — the both of us a favour."

"Loki, enough," Mother ordered.

Loki's mouth snapped shut and he hunched his shoulders.

If their mother was in any way affected by Loki's words, she did not show it. She was calm as she moved in front of him. "Loki, please," she said. "I wish to only help you. Tell me what troubles you."

"Why would you care?" he whispered. "Three years you have left me down here. It is too late to pretend that you care."

"You know that I care, and that I would never stop caring."

"Funny; I thought you had."

"And what makes you think that? I have done all I can for y—"

"You took Odin's side," Loki accused. "_You_ _let him do this to me_."

"Blaming us for your actions will not help your situation," Mother said. Thor was impressed. It was a bold move regarding Loki, and his face twisted into an expression of outrage. But as he opened his mouth, Mother continued on undeterred, "If you have felt neglected as you are so proclaiming, I am sorry, and we cannot change that now. But I am disappointed that when we are trying to reach out for you, you keep snatching your hand back, and other people are suffering for it. Loki, you must reach back. It is hardly neither fair nor reasonable to expect us to do all the work. So reach out for us now, and please tell me of what is troubling you."

Loki hesitated, and Thor could see the decision being weighed in his eyes. Thor tried to make himself smaller against the wall, determined to do his best to make Loki forget he was there. After all, it was his mother's light touch that Loki responded to best. Frigga understood Loki's more complex thought patterns and twisting emotions better than Thor ever could.

After several tense moments, Loki flicked his fingers and a glamour covering his face vanished in a sliver of green. Thor grimaced, and Mother's lips tightened. Loki's eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them grey with exhaustion, and his face was gaunt — Thor's earlier hopes about Loki's improving health were squashed. He looked at the both of them with every dreg of haughtiness he could muster, silently daring them to say anything of it.

"Oh, my love," Mother whispered, cautiously extending a hand. Loki moved away, crossing to the other side of the cell and folding his arms to his chest. Thor saw he was swaying slightly where he stood. Frigga lowered her hand with a sigh. "Loki, what has troubled you so?"

Loki laughed lowly. "I am in a cell, doomed to spend the next four thousand years staring at the same walls until the day I die. What else do you expect when my future in nothing but bleak?"

"So you are depressed?"

"You are perfectly capable to determine that. If you cannot, then I can assure you, once again, that I am in perfect health."

"Loki, please do not lie to me."

"Why? I am only returning the favour."

"Tell me of your nightmares. Please, my love. Please."

She was so warm, so open and full of love that when she tried again to rest her palm on his cheek, he did not pull away. He leant into her touch, covering her hand with his own and breathing in deeply. Thor was not the only person Loki had missed.

And then, so quietly Thor nearly missed it — and he suspected he was supposed to have — Loki murmured, "In my dreams I fall. I fall forever and ever and it is so cold and I feel as if I am suffocating. I think about the Void every day, and I think about every second between it and now with a clarity I do not want. But every night, even clearer than that feeling of falling and the cold that tears into me, I …" He swallowed. "Queen Fri— … Mother, I have … I have seen a fylgja."

"A fylgja?" Thor asked, too stunned to forget that Loki had not meant to address him. His heart clenched with dread. "Loki, whose fylgja is—?"

But he knew the answer before Loki even opened his mouth: "Mine."


	3. Chapter Two

**I'm baaaaaaaaack~ Enjoy.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Mother, go," Thor said.

His mother paused and looked back at Thor. He stood a couple of steps below her, looking at the floor. "Thor?"

"I … I want to speak to Loki. Alone," Thor said, mouth as dry as a desert. "I want to learn more about this fylgja."

"I think it would be best if I were to talk to him—"

"Mother, no," Thor said firmly.

"You think me incapable?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"No," Thor protested, "but I would not want you to worry even more."

Mother hesitated before nodding her consent. "Try, Thor. Do not be disappointed if he lashes out. Expect it, even. Just be patient with him."

Patience had never been Thor's strong suit, and chuckled a little at the thought. "I will do my best."

His mother leant down from the step above him and kissed his brow. "Tell me everything that transpires when you come back. I worry for him as much as you."

Thor nodded and, brushing her hand lightly, turned on his heel and walked back down the steps. The cell was a few metres away, and as such, Loki hadn't moved from where he had stood to watch them go. His eyes did not stray from Mother until the doors to the security block had closed, and only then did he turn his attention to Thor.

"What do you want?" Loki hissed. "I swear if the next words to leave your mouth spout some sentimental nonsense, you will regret it."

"Like how I used to regret my actions when we were children?" Thor asked, stopping in front of the barrier. "I forget how many times you blunted the edges of my weapons—"

"Not like when you were a child," Loki growled. "I will trade sentiment for antipathy." He shook his head. "Go."

Thor didn't leave. Instead, he sighed and crossed his arms. "Loki, I am worried for you. I refuse to leave."

"You are not helping," Loki said. "I do not want your feigned concern, and I would like even less your pity for the twisted creature you see before you. Now run along, Thor; Mother Dearest is waiting."

Thor refused to rise to the provocation. "Loki, please. I am troubled by your words. A fylgja … why?"

Loki grinned wolfishly. "And why are you worried? The fylgja heralds my death, so you'll finally be shot of me. Mark the date in your calendar, because then you won't have to think about the monster anymore. Time for you to celebrate." He laughed lowly.

"How can you think your death would bring joy from me?" Thor asked, appalled. "It broke me when you fell from the Bifröst."

"Oh really?" Loki asked mockingly. "Did your precious Jane comfort you and dry the few tears you shed for me?"

Thor's anger rose, but he clamped down on the urge to strike out at Loki. _Patience._ He clenched his fist and let go of his breath. "I did not come here to fight with you. Loki I … I have missed you terribly, and then I see you facing death and you still strive to sow torment in not only my heart, but in Mother's?"

"Is that not what monsters do?" Loki asked, eyebrows drawing together in mock confusion.

"Loki, I do not care for where you come from; all I care about is the brother that you are to me — the brother that I love with all my heart."

"Did you not hear me before?" Loki asked, his voice a danger whisper. "He is dead."

"I refuse to believe it."

"Then you only set yourself up for disappointment."

Loki slumped back into his armchair from earlier. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, inhaling deeply as he straightened his back. He reached for the book he had been reading and flipped it open; the message was clear to Thor — go away. But after a few minutes, Loki stood and threw the book down heavily. "Will I ever be rid of your idiotic presence?" he asked as he paced the length of the cell over and over. "If it is not clear, you may leave now. I thought that even that would have registered in your oafish mind; you cannot be that stupid."

"I know," Thor replied, "but I want you to know that you won't ever be rid of me, brother. Not until you tell me more of the fylgja. You can't expect me to go after telling Mother and me something like that."

"Norns, what a mistake it was opening my mouth."

"_Loki._"

Loki's fingers twitched every time he passed something. Thor had the strong suspicion he was itching to throw something.

In the end, he did. He took up one of the spindly chairs and threw it at Thor with a cry of rage. Thor jumped back as it smashed and broke against the energy barrier. Loki threw one of the poofles next, and a leg broke off and spun to a corner of the cell. All the while he cursed Thor not just in the Æsir tongue and the All-Tongue, but several others including ones Thor didn't know. But every word, regardless of whether he understood it or not, cut into his heart like a knife.

"Hey!" one of the guards said. "Calm down!"

"Fuck off," Loki spat, whirling around to glare at him, "or I swear the next time to deign to come in here I will rip your throat out, _Asgardian_."

The guard banged on the energy barrier with his spear; it sparked nastily. "Rein in your tongue," he said.

Loki threw a plate at the guard and it shattered into pieces. The barrier, after taking several hits now, flared and it threw Loki back. He cursed under his breath as he picked himself up from the floor, howling and smashing his fist into the wall.

"Loki!" Thor called, standing so close to the barrier he could smell the electric tang it threw off.

The guard did not look amused. He crossed to the panel on the wall and said into it, "Sedative requested at the Odinson's cell. A healer will be needed to administrate it."

Thor looked at the guard, incredulous, but Loki's reaction caught his attention. His head snapped around, fear igniting in his eyes. "No," he said, his voice suddenly quiet. "That won't be necessary. I … I apologise."

"Aye, it won't be necessary," Thor agreed. "Call it off."

"I am sorry, Your Highness," the guard said, "but it is protocol. Not even the Allfather could command something different. The prisoner endangers himself by acting as such. It is for his own safety, Your Highness."

"But he has calmed down and apologised," Thor protested.

The guard shook his head. "I am sorry, Your Highness, but this is my duty." He walked away from the panel and took up his position once more. Thor swore he would get the guard's name and assign him to the dawn patrols for at least a century for this.

Loki took a deep breath and said in a rich voice, "Please. Sedative is not necessary. My actions were uncouth, and I apologise."

Thor could only stare at Loki; Loki refused to look at him. Something was so very wrong with the situation if Loki had resorted to pleading with his guards, especially in the voice he had reserved for only when he had wanted something sweet from the kitchens between meals when they had been children. The animal fear that had crossed his face at the guard's words frightened Thor in turn. What was Loki afraid of? Was it something to do with the fylgja he was convinced was out for him?

A patter of footsteps came from the main staircase, and healer in ink blue robes came towards the end cell.

Loki's already pale face whitened even more. "Damn you, I do not need a sedative!" he screamed. Turning to the guard he spat, "You son of a whore, send her away!"

"I see the problem," the healer said softly. In her hands was a glass vial of clear liquid. Her eyes were fixed on Loki, and he spat at her, cursing and snarling as he backed away. "He will need to be held down so I can properly put this into his bloodstream," she continued, showing the bottle.

Thor was debating about whether or not to step in and stop this, but he didn't. The use of a sedative would stop Loki from hurting himself any further if he decided to throw anymore of his possessions and so entice the guards to strike at him with force, and some traitorous part of him was so curious as to what Loki was afraid of. The warden's earlier report danced through his mind, about Loki's screaming and the words he muttered in groups of nine at a time. He stepped aside.

"Thor, you _traitor_." The broken whisper in one of Asgard's ancient High-Tongues was so soft he almost missed it over the crackle of the barrier. Thor's stomach dropped.

The guard went to the panel again, and he moved the display when it came up. The wards of the cell and the barriers flared and Loki let loose an anguished howl. He sunk to his knees, clawing at his skin. Green light rippled under it — magic that was trapped in his flesh. One more twist of the guard's hand, and the barrier fell away. The two guards and the healer entered, and Loki swung at them, falling against the armchair due to his sudden weakness and pain. He had been like this when Thor had sealed his magic after the Battle of New York, and it had taken Loki a while to adjust to the lack of his magic's presence. The guards took him by the upper arms, forcing his head to the side as the healer pulled the clear liquid in the vial into a syringe. Loki spat at her as she put the needle into the side of his neck and deposited the contents.

"Please don't," Loki whispered feebly. But if any of the guards had a sudden change of heart, it was too late to do anything. Loki slumped, his eyes drifting shut as sleep took over him. In a matter of seconds, he was out cold.

Thor felt horrible. He strode forth, throwing the guards a furious look as they and the healer exited. "You did not have to handle him so roughly," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

_Traitor_.

"My prince, I am sorry for that," the same guard said. "Please; the barriers need to go back up."

Thor pushed Loki's hair back from his face. His skin was warm, almost feverishly so, but as the guard called to him again, Thor picked Loki up and put him onto the bed before he stepped outside.

* * *

#

* * *

Thor prowled the barrier's length over the next few hours, and eventually a chair was fetched for him. The guards' shifts changed, and a new pair took their places. Thor hardly noticed he was so fixated on Loki. Apart from the occasional twitch of a sleeper, nothing happened. As evening started to draw close, Thor had come to supressing his own yawns. He stretched in his seat, cracking his back and watching Loki through heavy eyes when his brother's breathing began to quicken.

Thor sat up, getting to his feet as Loki twisted in his bed. The tendons in his neck were strained, and he groaned low in his throat.

"Nei," Loki muttered. "Nei."

"Loki?"

"Þu … þu vili deyja." Loki gasped, turning over yet again and his breathing speeding up all the more. The rise and fall of his chest was so shallow Thor could not help but think it was not going to help him.

And then Loki screamed. His back arched and he clawed at his throat, trying to pull something invisible away.

Thor flew to the barrier, slamming his fists against it. It sparked angrily, but he didn't care; the stupid thing was in the way. "Let me in, damn you!" he shouted at the guards.

One of them hastened to obey his command, slamming his fingers on the controls. Loki was thrashing, screaming his lungs out and Thor wanted to cover his ears to block the terrible sounds out, clamp his hand over Loki's mouth to shut him up.

It stopped when the barrier came down. Thor rushed to his side, grabbing Loki's shoulders and shaking him none too gently. "Loki! _Loki!_"

Loki's eyes flew open and he swung his fist at Thor. The blow was nothing soft, damaging enough to bruise and break several capillaries under his skin, but Thor took the blow silently.

"It's alright, Loki," Thor murmured.

"L-let me go," Loki whispered furiously. "Get — off — _me_." A surge of magic pushed Thor back into the wall. Loki rolled to his feet, glaring at him. "Touch me again," Loki hissed, "and you will regret it."

"Loki, what happened?" Thor asked, choking on his voice. "You were screaming, brother, I—"

"Get — out."

"Loki—"

"_Leave!_"

Loki raised his fist again, but he froze almost at once. His eyes strayed to a spot over Thor's shoulder and he quivered. "No," he whispered, backing away and nearly falling over a low table. "Get away."

Thor had the distinct feeling Loki's words weren't directed at him anymore. Thor stepped forward, hands raised in reassurance. "Loki? What is it?"

Loki's eyes snapped to Thor once again, and he flinched. "I thought I told you to leave," he said harshly.

"Tell me what's wrong," Thor demanded. "Loki, please, I'm trying to—"

"Trying to help me?" Loki asked, and his voice was higher than it normally was, even edging a little on hysteria. "Thor, for the love of all things sacred, _get out_." His eyes were once again trained over Thor's shoulder.

The nervous tension in the room snapped at once as Loki fell heavily; his foot caught on one of thetables and it fell over with a loud _bang!_ Thor rushed forward, taking Loki up and cradling him in his arms protectively in his arms as he pushed his sweat soaked hair from his face. His brother was muttering furiously under his breath those strange words once again, not even pausing for air.

"Þu vili deyja þu vili deyja þu vili deyja." He whimpered, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. "Þu vili _deyja_."

"Loki!"

"Stop," Loki choked, scrabbling for Thor's cloak and digging his fingers into it. "Thor…. Brother…."

Thor's heart, despite the context of the situation, soared. "Tell me, Loki," he said instead. "Brother, tell me—"

"Thanos," Loki whispered, fear etching his voice.

Thor frowned. "Thanos?" The name stirred some distant memory in the back of his mind, and he cursed himself with his inability to remember where he'd heard it before.

Loki's fingers shook as he brought his hand to the side of his head. "He's … he's … he's whispering to me. I can hear him … in my sleep. My waking hours. Every day his voice becomes clearer, stays longer." He swallowed and dropped his hand back down, curling into himself and screwing his eyes shut. He moaned. "It's like a drum. Pounds through my head. It's driving me mad, Thor."

Thor doubted that his brother hadn't been wholly sane for a while, surely not since before his banishment to Midgardr. He kept his mouth shut though, merely held Loki as gently as he would a child and waiting for that awful trembling to stop. Waited for his brother to emerge from this wreck of a man before him, laughing at his stupidity and asking how in all the realms he had fallen for the act. But that point never came.

_I have to tell Mother_, he thought. _Mother will know what to do. Who Thanos is._

"Loki," Thor said, "it will be alright. I swear."

It was now Loki laughed. He shook his head, grinning in despair. "No, Thor. Stop lying to yourself. It's not going to be alright; I'm going to die, brother. When you accept that in your heart it will be easier. For once trust me in this. Let me go."

"No," Thor said, stubborn. "I'm not going to do that."

Loki scoffed and closed his eyes. "You already did it once. Who's to say you won't do it again? Just leave; leave me to die alone."

Thor stood hesitantly, worry clouding his mind.

_Leave me to die alone._

He wouldn't. Not again.

* * *

#

* * *

"This is Loki we're talking about. Do you not expect him to try anything to escape from his confinement?"

"This is your _son_."

Night had fallen, and fire burnt in the solar's huge brazier and casting a warm glow over the walls. Odin Allfather was pacing in front of it, his hands behind his back and not looking at either his wife or his son. Frigga was wringing her hands, and Thor was seated on one of the couches, staring intently at his father. He was biting his knuckle again. In one corner of the room, the ravens Huginn and Muninn sat watching the royal family.

"He is a renowned Trickster," Father said.

"And how does that matter an iota when he is dying and you refuse to do anything about it?" Mother demanded, catching his elbow.

"It matters because he has become desperate over the years," Father said. "Desperation would cause him to try anything in an attempt to escape — escape through the exploitation of our love for him."

"He may have it in him to attempt such a thing," Thor said, "but this is no trick of his — it is real. I was there, Father. No one could fake those screams; that fear."

His mother turned back to Father, the steel in her eyes supporting Thor's every word.

"He said a name," Thor continued. He took a breath before saying, "Thanos."

"Thanos?" Mother whispered. Her shoulders slumped and she fell back against one of the couches, her eyes wide and staring.

"Someone found him when he was falling, and they saved his life and gifted him with a force of a hundred thousand Chitauri," Thor said to his father, pressing hard. "This Thanos has struck such fear into Loki's heart I cannot imagine what has been done to put it there, but someone has managed to do that, and that suggests power. Power enough to create bastardised Skrulls, anyhow."

"Thanos," Father repeated. Then he shook himself. "Loki's fall very nearly killed him," he reasoned. "The fylgja is nothing more than a nightmare. Let us just say Loki is not aiming to escape by using Thanos' name for intimidation and he was indeed coming, then what harm could he possibly come to in one of the highest security cells in Asgard? If you can enlighten me, I will do everything in my power to fix it."

Thor could offer no response to that. Asgard's walls were old and strong, and had withstood sieges and battles and famine alike. Asgard was one of the safest places within not only the realms, but within the galaxy. Even the Nova Corps, the second largest peacekeeping force within the galaxy, sometimes collaborated with Asgard for security concerns.

But Mother was not moved. "Thanos is not a person to be trifled with even now, husband," she said testily. "He was powerful enough to take Loki from the Void, strong enough to subdue him; even though his fall would have weakened him, Loki is not easily subdued. I have seen something dark stirring within the Void as well, and this must be it: Thanos is gaining power once again."

"My grandfather destroyed him, reduced him to nothing more but a cripple," Father said in reassurance.

"Well apparently not, because he has attacked Midgardr through Loki—"

"Loki…. Frigga, his mind is afar," Father said finally. "This may be some nefarious plot of his."

Mother looked shocked, and even Thor was stunned. No, this was no plot. Loki may have been the most excellent of liars, but he couldn't feign the exhaustion, those _screams_. He would never have willingly let Thor see him as he currently was, would never have begged for help. No, that was real.

"How could you write your son off like this?" Mother asked, appalled.

"Is he truly our son anymore?" Father asked in return.

"How could you even ask yourself that?" Frigga demanded. "He is our son, and he will remain so until Ragnarók itself comes. He may have wandered over the past few years, but he is ours, _husband_."

Thor was thunderstruck. He agreed with his mother, and he stood. "What?" he whispered. "Father, how …?"

Father refused to look at him, but Thor thought he caught something in his eye, some deeper meaning to the question he had asked before.

The sudden spitting tension was broken when a knock came at the solar door. The three of them looked up, and Father sighed, taking up Gungnir in hand before calling, "Yes?"

Athalráðr, Father's steward, came into the room, bowing lowly as he did so. "Your Majesties, Your Highness, an audience has been requested—she has said it is urgent."

It must have been if Athalráðr had decided to come to the Allfather during his evening hours, the precious time he had to himself and was not required to rule Asgard.

Father nodded. "Come," he said to Thor and his wife.

The three of them filed past Athalráðr, walking through Glaðsheimr in seething silence to one of the audience chambers closest to the royal wing — Huginn and Muninn flew after them silently. Not a word was said until they arrived. The ravens fluttered onto their perches as Father mounted the dais at the end of the room. The echo of Gungnir hitting the floor echoed in the room. "Send them in."

The doors at the far end of the room opened, and a figure came through — a woman. Like most of the Æsir, her hair was blonde, curling in her face. Her eyes were storm grey, the left flicked with brown. A light dash of freckles decorated her nose and cheeks. Thor thought she was rather pretty. She held herself delicately as a lady of court would, but Thor had never seen her before. Perhaps she belonged to one of the lower noble houses. She came to the foot of the dais and, in perfect execution, dipped into a full curtsey. "Your Majesty," she said.

"Rise," Father said. She did so and folded her hands in front of her. "Who are you?"

"My name is Sigyn, my king," the girl said. "Sigyn Bláinsdóttir."

"And what makes this audience so urgent, Lady Bláinsdóttir?" Father asked a little irritably.

Sigyn bit her lip. "Your Majesty, I have been gifted with Second Sight, apprenticed to Freyja Njörðsdóttir to learn the arts of seiðr and magic. I have had a vision, my king. Concerning Prince Loki."

The chamber became silent at once, and not even the ravens stirred on their perches.

"Tell me," Father prompted. His grip on Gungnir tightened the smallest of degrees.

Sigyn inclined her head, swallowing slightly. "I have seen a fylgja, my king. And it is coming for him."

Silence overcame the room, and Father shifted his grip on Gungnir, his eye piercing Sigyn. "Explain," he said.

"It is a raven, I think," Sigyn said, twisting her hands fast together. "But from its wings come ice and shadows, and it is covered in patterns, as if they have been traced onto its feathers. And its eyes are as red as coals and … and the raven says 'þu vili deyja'."

"You will die," Father said in translation. He looked solemn as he fixed his gaze on Sigyn.

When he said nothing more, Sigyn went on, only the slightest of tremors in her voice: "Your Majesty, please. If nothing is done, then this shadow will come for him and your son will surely perish."

"This can be stopped?" Thor asked. His heart leapt with hope. "Lady Bláinsdóttir, can it be stopped?!"

"The visions have been broken," Sigyn said, "but I believe it can."


End file.
